


Breathless

by CedarTheBarefoot



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual!Arthur, Bisexuality, Breathless, Corsetry, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, No Spoilers, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - F/M/M, bisexual!John, bottom!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 23:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CedarTheBarefoot/pseuds/CedarTheBarefoot
Summary: It was made of cotton and linen, dyed black. There were also some soft pieces added to the panels in the front. Satin or silk, Abigail thought. She didn’t know much about finer fabrics. The boning was firm and in wonderful condition. It was made to fit a woman of a larger stature than her own. Perfect for John’s tall, muscular form.





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t know I needed John Marston in a corset until I was drunkenly writing it at about 2 in the bloody morning.

John sighed and closed his eyes. Heat was gathering in his belly, and his trousers were really starting to feel a bit too tight. A warm kiss very gently came to the corner of his mouth. A stubbled chin scratched against his own.

He could hear lacing being slowly pulled through eyelets behind him. 

Turning his head, he claimed the other mouth in a deeper kiss. A tongue brushed over his lower lip, and a moment later, teeth followed. A puff of air was suddenly pressed out of John. A surprised grunt left him, disappearing into the kiss, and his grip tightened around the waist in front of him. 

A large hand slid into his hair, callouses from a hard life catching in the strands. He opened his eyes, and found Arthur staring at him hungrily in the soft light of the oil lamp. He’d taken off his hat, showing off the fresh haircut he’d just gotten from the barber a day or so prior. Standing there in front of him, in only his shirtsleeves and trousers, braces hanging loosely over his gun belt. Looking like little more than a man, but John knew better.

Laces slipped through eyelets, strong weaving running softly against metal grommets. If John weren’t holding onto Arthur, he might have been tugged backwards off of his balance. Surplus air was pressed out of him again. This time he couldn’t help a little moan, especially when Arthur held his hair a little tighter, tugging his head back. He whimpered when his throat found itself under the welcome assault of a starving mouth. 

A pair of smaller, more delicate hands came around his hips. One slid down to fold itself around his cock, hot with arousal and painfully trapped in his trousers. Two or three expert strokes followed. A sort of whine left John, and he pressed his hips forward against the firm grip. He cried out when Arthur sucked at his throat, just above his Adam’s apple.

“Do’ya want me to stop?” Came a whisper from behind, followed by a few more strokes at his prick. Abigail was an experienced woman. He was sure she knew what his answer would be. She just wanted to hear him say it. “N-no,” John answered, “keep goin’.” 

Arthur growled his approval against his neck, kissing his way back up to his lover’s mouth. His hand slipped out of John’s hair and ventured down to join Abigail’s hand at his crotch. Abigail kissed his clothed shoulder. “Keep holdin’ on to somethin’.” She said, sounding amused. She gave his cock one last firm, yet loving squeeze. 

John gasped, breaking the kiss and looking down between their bodies. He watched her hand leave him, and reach out to brush over the front of Arthur’s trousers. Arthur shivered, holding her hand there for a fleeting moment before she pulled away and returned to what she’d been doing. Driving him into further distraction, Arthur went to work releasing John’s cock from its confines. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when Arthur finally got a hand around him. “Look atcha,” he rumbled. Another set of laces shifted through the eyelets. The sound accompanied Arthur’s stroking fist, forcing another sigh from John, “Ohh…” 

He held fast to Arthur as Abigail worked. She tugged again, savoring each sighing moan that floated from John as she pulled the laces a little tighter each time. He wasn’t a small man. Not by any means. He was tall, and strong. He wasn’t always bright, or at least didn’t show it. However, he was always surprising people. 

He was surprising Abigail right this moment with how well he was taking this. She’d only carefully suggested it after a long period of observation. She’d initially thought that his eyes had lingered on women. That his hands had brushed only over her waist. She slowly had come to realize that his touch lingered over the sturdy cotton. She had seen him curiously run his fingers over the firm whalebones. 

After that, she’d found one that might work, and proceeded to steal it. 

It had taken some convincing to get Arthur to play along once she’d presented her idea to him. He’d had his reservations about it. It was a little unorthodox. But so was their relationship, so he gave in. He rarely could refuse John anything by himself. And if both John and Abigail were involved, he was a goner. 

At least it hadn’t been as hard as it had been to convince him that both she and John had wanted him. Arthur was a lenient, sensible man. He seemed to know when it was best to give. It was certainly best to give in when a man and a woman were both on their knees, convincing you of their affections by worshipping every inch of your cock together until you could no longer stand.

One of Arthur’s hands slid around John’s waist, that was slowly taking shape as Abigail directed. She watched the thick fingers, tanned from hours of riding under the sun, stroke along a whalebone. Marveling at how different John’s body was becoming. Abigail smiled in triumph. While she knew Arthur certainly would never wear it, he seemed more than okay with John wearing it. 

It was made of cotton and linen, dyed black. There were also some soft pieces added to the panels in the front. Satin or silk, Abigail thought. She didn’t know much about finer fabrics. The boning was firm and in wonderful condition. It was made to fit a woman of a larger stature than her own. Perfect for John’s tall, muscular form. 

John gasped when she gave the laces a final pull before tying them off. She dared go no further. Not his first time, at least. She knew the confines of a corset. Abigail recognized the calculated breaths he took. She also recognized his pleasure. 

Stepping up behind John, she slipped her hands around to place them on his chest. Slowly, she trailed her hands downward, feeling the almost womanly shape his body had taken. His waist was cinched in tight, maybe having lost a noticeable inch or two. Arthur’s free hand followed hers, the other still stroking at John’s cock. 

“Look atcha,” Arthur murmured reverently, “Look atcha.” 

John let go of Arthur to feel what Abigail had done. She placed her hands over his and guided them, taking care to trace every fine detail. Every hard ridge of boning, every soft panel, and every curve. His breathing, already laboured with pleasure and the unfamiliar restriction, grew more so. 

_“Jesus.”_

He turned to look Abigail in the eye, unable to find words to express what he was feeling. He didn’t know what he could possibly say. She smirked, looking up through her eyelashes at him. A stray lock of her hair had fallen down from her neatly done-up bun. Her cheeks were flushed red with effort and arousal. 

John found he couldn’t lean down to kiss her as easily as he usually could. His posture was probably the best it ever was. Abigail met him halfway, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him deeply. Arthur pressed up against his back, and nipped at the exposed nape of his neck. John sighed. He liked sex just fine when it was just him and Abigail or just him and Arthur. Loved it in fact. But when the three of them were together? He felt overwhelmed in the best of ways. It felt as if there were hands everywhere. Mouths every which place, making John feel feverish and delirious.

Arthur hadn’t looked surprised when Abigail had laid the corset out on the bed before John. Nervous maybe, but not surprised. The two of them had obviously schemed about this beforehand. He loved them for it.

Abigail fisted his long hair, and growled against his mouth, “I want you to lick me while I watch Arthur fuck you.” Both men groaned. She backed them up to the bed, scooted back on the mattress and drew up her skirt. Catching John’s eye, she smirked, and reached down to rub teasingly at herself. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Before John could crawl eagerly after her, Arthur caught him around the waist, and held him back against his chest. “Arthur!” John complained, struggling as his wrists were seized in his lover’s large, calloused hands. 

He was made to watch Abigail rub at herself, unable to move as she dipped her fingers inside of herself. All the while she stared back, her large dark brown eyes hot with lust.

“A-Arthur, nngh,” John bit down on a groan as the man in question nipped gently at the shell of his ear. “Let me, oh god,” A huff of air left him real sudden-like when he was shoved face-down onto the bed. He pulled in a gasp when Arthur yanked his trousers down around his thighs.

Getting his hands under himself, John looked up at Abigail. She smiled softly down at him, and caressed the scarred side of his face, “You’re so beautiful.”

John blushed.

“Beautiful,” Arthur agreed roughly.

John blushed harder. 

He had a lot of choice words to describe himself. None of them were “beautiful.” His lovers thought more of him than he thought of his ownself. But right then, he couldn’t help but believe them.

Arthur’s fingers, slick with petroleum, circled his hole. John groaned, reached for Abigail, and pulled her in by her hips. She sighed when he flattened his tongue against her. He moaned when Arthur pressed a finger inside of him. 

Abigail stroked her fingers back through his long, dark hair. Watching him as he licked between her folds. As he sucked gently at her clit. John Marston, who smoked and drank on a regular basis, frequently got into fights and robbed people for a living was surprisingly the most tender lover when it came to pleasing her with his mouth. 

“People would pay for your tongue, John Marston,” she murmured, gasping when he sucked at her a little harder. She watched a shiver run down his spine. She felt him moan against her, his hips stuttering against the edge of the bed. 

Looking up, she caught Arthur’s eye. His blue eyes were dark with hunger. He was gripping John’s corseted waist in one hand. The other hand was busy opening him up, a small pot of petroleum sitting lidless on the mattress nearby. Arthur shifted his grip, pressing John harder into the bed.

Suddenly, John bucked, crying out between Abigail’s legs. She stroked his hair, as Arthur rubbed at that spot within him. She didn’t personally know exactly what it felt like since only men seemed to have it. 

She’d asked John once.

_“Overwhelming. I see stars. My whole body feels like it’s full’a stars. It’s like I can’t get away quick enough, but...also kinda like I can’t get enough of it.”_

She could say that she was able to feel something similar to that. Just not in the exact same place of course. 

John jumped and heaved a breathless sigh. Arthur was pressing against that spot again, leaving him panting against Abigail’s folds. He whimpered, and went back to licking her, following his fingers as he slid them wetly in and out. She gasped, her thighs and belly tensing up. 

“How many fingers, Arthur?” She asked.

“Three,” he grunted back. 

John jumped under the assault, and let out a desperate, shuddering moan. “Please!” He growled in frustration, “Arthur, just fuck m-ohh,”

“Yer being pretty mouthy, darlin’,” Arthur chuckled, withdrawing his fingers to slick himself up. It seemed both men had lost their patience. Abigail stroked her fingers through John’s hair, pressing up against his mouth. He was breathlessly licking and sucking frantically now. The two of them pulled in a gasp, both seeing stars. 

Arthur groaned, holding onto his corseted waist as he pushed inside, driving a long whine from John. He shivered, his hold tightening on Abigail’s thighs. She pulled at his hair and directed his mouth, “Harder, harder,” she breathed. 

Arthur picked up a steady pace, at least to get John accustomed. Abigail admired his control, and was determined to make him lose it. 

“Come on now, Arthur. Listen to him. The poor thing’s desperate,” she prodded, meeting his eye, a bead of sweat sliding down from her temple. John whimpered when Arthur thrust harder, grinding his hips against the edge of the bed. 

She was so close, mesmerized by their movement together. Arthur gripped John’s waist a little tighter, rutting him without abandon. This drove John harder against Abigail, shifting his balance as he clung to her for purchase. He cried out with every thrust, his breath coming shorter and shorter each time. 

He felt dizzy, breathless and so very full. Arthur’s cock was...well, it was something. 

Arthur was a modest man, didn’t think a whole lot of himself. He seemed relatively quiet, especially to those who didn’t know him. One wouldn’t necessarily think it when looking at him, but Arthur had a...very...large cock. 

When he was soft, it wasn’t too shocking. But once he grew hard? It was a sight to behold, to say the least. Arthur had seemed almost embarrassed about it. Abigail and John did their utmost best to rectify that. 

John felt Abigail spill against his tongue with a moaning shriek. She spasmed around his fingers, and he supported her lower back until she could no longer stay upright. She slumped back to the bed, leaving him to endure the ruthless pounding alone. Not that he was about to complain.

Grinding out a cry, John reached down to stroke himself. It was getting harder and harder to breathe as he grew closer and closer to the edge. Arthur squeezed at his corseted waist, scratching his fingertips over the taught cotton. His pace was losing its rhythm, but he sought to drive as hard as he could for that spot. The spot that made John cry out the loudest, made him buck and writhe the most, made him let go the hardest. Ducking low, he slipped his arms around John’s middle, and kissed the exposed nape of his neck. 

John whimpered, pressing back against the man. A hand moved up the front of the corset to settle around the base of his kiss-bruised throat. “Arthur! Ohh, Arthur, I-I’m gonna, Jesus, Arthur, I’m!” A staggering pace had been set. Both men knew that they were not going to last.

John buried his face into the bedspread, stroking madly at his erection, nearly sobbing. A moment later, he was finally letting go in stifled ribbons against the edge of the mattress. Feeling the muscles spasm within his lover, Arthur pressed his face between John’s shoulders. A hoarse shout accompanied his own release. 

A long moment later, Arthur came back to himself. A soft hand was stroking through his hair. Looking wearily up, he found Abigail looking lovingly at him. Her hair was in a disarray with sleep tugging at her eyes. She smiled softly and kissed him. He kissed her back, licking at her lower lip. 

Pulling away, she pushed at his shoulders to get him upright. Doing so uncovered John. The man was an absolute wreck. He looked absurdly edible as he laid there, damp with sweat, hair wild and panting breathlessly. His shirt was stretched out around the collar. The corset still held its place, the laces done up tight, taking away an inch or two from his waist. But in return giving him so much more. 

Arthur always thought John looked pretty with his cock inside of him. But he looked real pretty with his cock inside of him with his body cinched tight with cotton, soft panels and whalebone. John turned his head to the side, and looked weakly up through his hair at Arthur. 

An absolute wreck. 

Taking pity on him, Arthur gently pulled his waning cock out of him. This prompted a heavy sigh from both of them. 

Abigail reached over, untied the lacings, and began to tug them loose. John groaned, and drew in a relieved breath as she continued to pull the lacings from the eyelets. With each moment that passed, he took in another deep breath, hearing the lacings slip through the eyelets. His body returned to its natural state in much less time than it had taken to guide it away. 

Arthur lifted John up as Abigail pulled the corset off, and flung it over a nearby armchair. John was essentially a dead weight, spend dripping slowly down his inner thighs, and his chin still wet with Abigail’s orgasm. Arthur kissed the corner of his mouth and climbed into the bed, putting John between himself and Abigail. He pulled the blankets up over the three of them and slotted himself against John’s back. Abigail slipped herself into his arms. 

He was barely there, still riding the high. A soft little whimper followed each intake of breath. Arthur pet a hand down his flank and kissed his shoulder, “Shhh, you’re okay. Just breathe. You did so good, darlin’.” Abigail hummed in agreement, slipping a leg between his, making herself comfortable. “Beautiful.” Was all she could say. 

Sleep overtook Abigail and Arthur. But for a moment longer, it eluded John. He pulled open his eyes, feeling the comforting warmth of his lovers around him. He lifted his head and looked over at the armchair where the corset had landed. He looked at the long lacing, hanging pathetically from the eyelets. His eyes trailed over the ridges of boning. They lingered on the soft panels of satin or maybe silk, he was no good with fabrics after all. 

He shivered, and laid his head back down. Arthur snored quietly in his ear, hands wrapped around him. Abigail’s soft puffs of breath caressed his throat where she lay in his arms. 

He turned over in his mind what it felt like to be laced into it. The way he’d held onto Arthur like a bedpost. The way it had felt to have air compressed out of him. The way his posture had stayed erect. The way his waist had curved. The way Abigail and Arthur had stroked their hands over those curves, gripped him by them, held him still by them. 

The way it had made him breathless.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment! Love hearing from you!


End file.
